Masquerade
by snowish
Summary: I am not a commoner," she said, half-convincing. Not here, anyway.


So, about to start a new-little something. Oneshots appear to be my one-true love.

Written on a whim.

Enjoy?

--

The fairy-tale wings on her back may have seemed to be made just for her – glimmering and glittering to a point where her eyes nearly teared up to study them, as she did now. Wondering hands reached to touch them, but stopped, knowing better. Their minds were made, she decided, looking down at them wonderingly.

Why was she so disconnected right now? She smoothed the equally sparkly dress and stood from the small, wooden chair where she had been determinedly fixing her moon-bright hair. It refused to do exactly what she wanted.

The ivory vanity showed the reflection so clearly: a small, scared girl, her dark eyes peering out, worried, from the face that seemed to be so very pretty in this light. But she wasn't – the truth was that she was a girl far from in her league of people. The cream tone of the dress did nothing for her skin tone, the shoes dangled off her small feet, bits of her hair stuck out like bird feathers - and she knew these facts only too well. But, out of respect (more for the dress and shoes than anything else), she kept these things to herself.

Sixteen still felt too young to deal with this, having to wander through the thorn bushes to reach the imposing marble steps that she was required to climb. Her legs did not tire easily, though – she could only hope that no person recognized her for who she was – the girl who had scrubbed so viciously at the marble floors that the couples swayed on, below her. She descended another set of stairs, this one coated in carpeting that made her shoes want to stick. Somehow she managed to walk down with her head high, giving an extra kick to her steps so that the shoes did not stay behind on the velvet. It seemed the whole room had its eyes on her – the fairy-princess making her way down the stairs, when in reality she was just a maiden wearing gossamer-thin fabric wings in a masquerade that was just too ironic for her to consider. The lords and ladies of the court did not notice how she so wanted to cling to the wall, or, worse, grab the tray from the passing servant full of champagne and begin serving herself.

A piece of her hair slithered down her back from the bun she had worked on for quite a while – she chastised it in her head as she went to the line of other eligible ladies who had arrived previously, and waited hesitantly, her hands twisted together in a knot.

When it was her turn, she sank into a curtsy, (does this make you happy, Daddy, for your little girl to be among those that you so wished she could be with?) and spoke with only a tremble on the first word (her name, of course), "Ruth of the Sun Country."

That was, after all, where her family was from. If they knew that her father had been only the baker who made their bread with their meals every day, the king and queen did not show it. They nodded, and she made her way swiftly toward the stairs, for, if she was caught, she would be out of a job – as would her father, she quickly amended. That would be bad, as well.

A hand caught her arm. It was gloved, she noted, and much too large to belong to a lady. A (young) man with a guard outfit (and eyes like the sun, they were so bright) asked her something. She only dazedly looked at him, before he repeated his question.

"Ruth," she answered in a small voice. "Just Ruth, and I, my dear sir, and about to leave."

His eyebrows furrowed; he did not understand why the young prince did not hold her interest.

"I do not wish to catch the prince's eye," she stated proudly. "I wish only to-" Just as she was about to say how much she wished to leave, he hooked her arm through his and took her out of the stuffy ballroom.

"I know why you are here, commoner," he said cheerfully. "For you've just lied through your teeth. Cinderella stories don't happen in real life, my lady. One must made do with what one is given, and no further."

"I am not a commoner," she spit out, wiping her eyes as inconspicuously as she could.

He raised his eyebrow, and she was distracted by his eyes again.

"I most certainly am not," she said again, trying so hard to be stubborn. "My family is one with high regards." (In Sun Country, before the Revolution, that is.) She jerked her wings off her shoulders – they were beginning to hit the sides of the narrow walls through which she walked. They were not left behind though – she could use the netting for something, just tear out the sequins and glitter.

The tears came on their own, this time, and she sat down beside a conveniently-placed fountain, placing the wings on the brick beside. Droplets of water hit her, but did not soothe her anger that she had been so easily figured out – by another commoner, as well! Did the nobility see through her, but lose interest so quickly that they forgot her, just one in a million who was tired, work-drained, and demanding change? Had that been her true purpose for going?

Or had she really just wanted to experience the glamour that was so enthused over in the kitchens by the maids who witnessed all the finery? Was that really it?

A shadowed figure stood before her, suddenly – she jerked up in surprise.

"You left this." A bracelet was placed back on her arm with such tenderness that she found herself looking back up in surprise. The eyes seemed amused by something.

"I am not a commoner," she said, half-convincing. Not here, anyway. Somewhere she was still the daughter of a duke, the jewel of their manor, coveted by nearly all of Sun Country for her mother's beauty and father's title. She'd just begun to receive suitors when the end of the world occurred, and her father was a baker and her mother, dead, in the ground, somewhere in Sun Country still.

Somehow this all came out of her mouth as she was thinking. The man (really, just a boy) stood and received it all, one hand still touching the wrist upon which the bracelet now resided.

"Why should I care?" He said, finally.

"You shouldn't. The nobility should. This doesn't affect you in the slightest." (the slight jerk of his head)

"I lived in Sun Country as well."

"Oh." A silent understanding. "I am sorry." She looked back at the fountain. "Ruth," she said to the water.

"Theo," he said, and this brought her attention back to him. Surely, that couldn't be--

"You mean Theodore?" Her voice seemed hopeless, a little, but still a little bit excited to have someone else from home, besides her father (who was really a hopeless cook, so she had to do all the work while he watched).

"Yes," he stated, a bit ruffled. It made sense now – the night-dark hair, the bright eyes, the somewhat tanned skin. She stood silently, and curtsied.

"You deserve a bit of respect, Your Highness," she said, peering up, and then standing again, her eyebrows slanting slightly.

"I do not deserve it."

"The same way that I do not deserve this dress. But that does not mean it cannot be given." The smile that lit her face spread, surprisingly, to the boy's face. She gave her hand to his offered one, and he kissed it, before straightening.

"You really aren't a commoner."

"You just wouldn't listen to me earlier this night."

"Ruth?"

She looked at him with a question in her eyes, knowing what was coming before it happened.

"Your hair is lighter since last I saw you," he said simply, trailing a finger through it.

She simply smiled, and replied, "Yours is darker."

* * *

I'll leave this up to your interpretation. (Though I am sort of dying to do a background story now.)


End file.
